What You'll Find at the End of the Corridor
by Pinnacle of Madness
Summary: Captured by Death Eaters, Luna finds herself locked in a small cell with five other people, all with their own strange lives and undeniable insanities. What's happening to her? Canon through sixth, some OOC, OCs, language, not updated very frequently.


The moment Luna Lovegood woke up she knew something was wrong. This was not her four-poster bed or her dormitory, hell, this wasn't even Hogwarts.

She knew because the feeling of home, family, and protection, the feeling of love and belonging that she only ever found at Hogwarts or her own house that had kept her sane was gone. She felt alone and sad, hated and... cold. She was cold. Very cold. And she hurt. Her muscles ached all over, her left middle finger was throbbing as if it had just been shut in a doorway, her right ankle was numb, and the back of her head was tender and fiery to the touch. Shivering, Luna opened her eyes.

She was in a dark room, lit only by a few candles on the stone floor. There were five stone walls making the room into an odd 'L' shape. The longer stretch of space looked to be approximately five feet by eleven feet, whereas the shorter looked to be around five by eight. The stone ceiling wasn't immediately apparent, but Luna was sure she could have touched it if she stood up. The whole place was damp and covered in moss, dirt, and, depending on the area, what looked to be human waste. There was no apparent heating source and the sixth and longest wall wasn't stone or even a wall at all, but large metal bars. There was an off-white sign attached to the outside of the bars facing away from them, but Luna was sure that when the dim light shined on it just right, it read, 'Section 2; Cell 13'. There was no doubt about it. Luna had been kidnapped and was being held prisoner in somebody's dungeon.

A small scuffling noise brought Luna's attention to the other five people occupying the cell. Curled up closest to herself was an auburn-haired woman. The woman looked to be in her thirties, just at that age where nobody's sure if you're entering or finishing your prime. She was of average build and had blue-grey eyes that kept shooting back and forth, barely resting on a single spot before looking for something else to gaze at. Her nose was rather small and her skin pale. Though not speaking, it was obvious she had a train of thought going strong in her head from the way her expressions kept changing. She was decked from head to tow in torn and dirty lilac muggle clothes.

Only a few feet away was a young man with black hair, perhaps in his mid-twenties. He had black eyes, a slightly petite build, and facial features that looked rather familiar. He was openly staring at the redhead, though from his blank expression, Luna just could not fathom why. He was dressed in slightly shabby forest-green robes that had a suspicious stain on the front.

On the other end of the cell were three more people. In the far left corner was a man with brown hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin, though at the same time it was clammy and had obviously not seen daylight for quite a while. From a decent collection of grey hairs and wrinkles, Luna estimated him to be around fifty. He wore a long, dirty, blue cloak over faded jeans and a light-green polo shirt.

Leaning against a wall on the right was a black-haired young girl who looked to be only a few years older than Luna herself. The girl was definitely frightened, but she still managed to hold herself in a way that would normally demand respect. Luna could tell just from her regal air and once expensive silver robes that the girl had been an aristocrat.

Last was a small boy, sitting curled up against the right wall, staring blankly at the bars in front of him. The boy had blond hair and green eyes, looked to be no older than nine, and was dressed in a black uniform.

It was the aged man in the blue cloak who spoke first to her.

"Awake, are yeh, lass?" he asked in a soothing tenor with an accent Luna couldn't place for the life of her.

"Yes. Do you happen to know where we are, or at least what day it is?" she asked, contemplating letting herself fall into her usual dreamy air.

"Couldn't tell yeh neither, Ahm afraid," he said, smiling strangely. "Not a soul's got a blasted clue where we migh' be, other than it bein' too damn wet for bein' o'er ground. We think maybe un'er a lake..."

"And the day?" she politely cut into his ramblings.

"Can't say. Us all've been down 'ere so long, yer th'un most likely know the day, lass."

"I was captured November the thirteenth," she informed him. "I don't know how much time has passed since then."

"Beware th'Ides of No'ember," he nodded. "Ma's always tol' me beware o' th'Ides."

"Right, I'll keep that in mind," Luna informed him, turning to look for a place to rest. She couldn't remain where she had been laid, there was a rather obnoxious stone sticking up that was digging into her back. Spotting a promising looking stretch of wall, Luna made her way over to sit about a foot from the redhead, who was now openly staring at her, along with the man who had previously been staring at said woman. Speaking of which...

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she told the rest of the cell. Getting no response whatsoever (except from the man who had spoken to her, who began singing the nursery rhyme about the cow jumping over the moon under his breath), Luna continued, "What are your names? I really would like to know what to call you."

"Ignavia," said the redhead, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes, then tucking it behind her ear, "Ignavia Tsunae."

"Sam," muttered the little blond boy.

The young witch in silver robes had jumped slightly at her question before murmuring, "Clair Tutélaire," in a heavy French accent.

"Solus," said the familiar-looking wizard, glancing at her one last time before going back to staring at Ignavia.

The man who had spoken to her finished his song before replying, "Cin Libertu."

Luna smiled at her rather unenthusiastic audience. "It's nice to meet you all, I only wish we had been able to exchange greetings under better circumstances." At this, Clair snorted.

"Bettair circumstances, _en vérité_," she said. "We could perish tomorrow, for all we know. You are vairy 'appy for one 'oo is being 'eld prisonair."

"Oh no, I'm quite terrified," Luna responded cheerfully. "I'm sorry, would you prefer that I burst into tears and wail that all hope is lost?"

Clair did not respond, choosing instead to shoot her a dirty look and mutter, "_Putain_," under her breath, followed by many other rapid French phrases that Luna was sure would be rather insulting if she spoke the language.

Done with her rather pathetic attempts at making friends, Luna curled up in what was now dubbed as her spot and did her best to drift off to sleep. She'd figure things out when she woke. Though there were no windows or any semblance of daylight, her body was telling her that it was high time she slept.

She did.

* * *

_Drip, drip, drip._

_Poke. _

Luna let out a small growl at the annoying dripping sound coming from next to her left ear and the obnoxious poking in her left side, but other than that did not move. Though from the feeling of her muscles Luna knew she had slept a very long time, she still felt like she had not slept in two days. She didn't wanna wake up just yet.

_Drip, drip, drip._

_Poke._

OK, the dripping she could live with. The poking, however, was starting to get on her nerves. Regaining just a bit more consciousness, Luna listened to the monotone voice in the background. Why did that voice sound familiar?

"She's dead," the voice said before poking her again. "She's dead." Poke. "She's dead." Poke. "She's dead." Poke.

On and on it continued, but Luna just couldn't summon up the strength to swat at the poker. Her limbs felt really heavy and her mouth cottony.

"She's dead." Poke.

In fact, it felt a lot like a hangover might if she had been drinking, minus the headache she had been told about. No, wait, she had a headache. And that dripping wasn't helping in the slightest...

"She's dead." Poke.

...nor was than incessant poking. What monk had she brutally tortured, raped twice, maimed with nothing but an unsanitized, iron soup spoon, murdered, used some dark ritual on to bring him back to life, tortured again (only this time with a plastic fork), then murdered again in her past life to deserve this torment?

"She's dead." Poke.

Apparently a very important one.

"She's dead." Poke. "She's dead." Poke.

OK, that was it! Forget how tired she was, this had to stop _now_, else she'd go more insane than she already was! Out loud, Luna shouted, "Stop that infernal poking _now _if you wish to live a long, healthy life!" Sure, she probably should have said it politely, but she was tired, achy, and cranky, not to mention already suffering enough from the dripping...

"-e's dead." Poke. "Oi, Ignavia, yeh see? Ah told yeh she wasn't dead!"

Luna reluctantly opened her eyes to see Ignavia roll her eyes at Cin, then give Luna a worried look. "You okay?" she asked. "You were unconscious for five meal passings when you were tossed in here, then another three after you asked our names. That really isn't all that healthy, so we were starting to wonder..."

"I'm fine," Luna muttered, wincing at the croak in her voice. "D'you have any-"

She was cut off by Solus holding out a saucer of slightly mossy-looking water. However, water was water, and she hadn't had any in what probably amounted to a couple days. She greedily gulped it down, sighing in content as she felt it running down her throat, slowly re hydrating the rest of her body...

"Thank you," she told them sincerely. "Thank you all so much."

"Ah, no problem, lass. Ah meself 'ave grown rathe-"

"More birds are dead," Sam interrupted, turning from his position in the corner of staring at the wall (which Luna noticed he seemed to have not looked away from since she had last fallen asleep) to look at them.

"What?" asked Solus, nervously clenching and un-clenching his fingers.

"More birds were killed. It was the weasel's fault. But not all of them, because Solus's brother," here Solus winced, "was able to tell them to get away. Still, more birds are dead." Sam nodded before turning back to stare at the wall as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Clair raised her head for a moment to snap something at him in French (probably 'shut up', because Luna had heard a Beuxbatons student use the same phrase on Krum's fangirls in the library), then lowered her head again. Ignavia sighed at the riddle and went back to her spot leaning against the wall near Luna. Cin giggled (something you should _not_ hear from a middle-aged man) and began engaging in a murmured conversation with Ignavia. Solus absently shook his head as if trying to shake off water, then curled up right at Luna's feet, much to her surprise. Luna gazed around the cell in confusion before copying Ignavia's sigh, then pressing her back against the wall and staring with glazed eyes at the space in front of her and absently wondering who Solus's brother was and if this might be why Solus looked so familiar despite Luna never having seen him before being captured.

* * *

About an hour later, a scraggly-looking house elf popped into their cell balancing a tray of six small helpings of bread, stale cheddar cheese, and six saucers of water similar to the one fed to Luna earlier. Having not eaten in a fair few days, Luna's stomach growled loudly at the sight of food. The house elf left quickly, leaving the tray to be passed around to everyone. Taking a bite of the bread and cheese, Luna closed her eyes in bliss. It didn't matter that the cheese was fairly hard and crumbly and the bread slightly moldy, she had not eaten in only a bit less than a week and she was _hungry_. Anything would've tasted good at that point, and the food was _delicious_. Not bothering to savor much, Luna quickly polished off the rest of it and drank about half of the water, saving the other half for later. She sighed in content and gazed around at her companions who were still only half-way through their bread and cheese. She shook her head when she found herself wanting theirs as well and looked away, trying and failing to see far beyond the bars. As little lighting as there was in the cell, there was even less outside of it, though from what she could tell, they were at the end of a corridor. 

Like when she woke the first time, a small scuffling noise drew her attention to her unwilling companions. Cin had apparently finished his meager meal and stood up. He circled the cell three times singing Frère Jaques, his accent combined with the French sounding very odd, before stopping in front of Luna.

"_...Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong,_" he finished, looking her straight in the eye. "Yeh feelin' any better, lass?"

"Yes," Luna replied, "though I still feel like shit."

Cin laughed. "Ai, Ah felt th'same when ah first woke up in 'ere. Yeh'll feel a migh' better af'er 'bout a week."

Luna nodded, taking his word for it.

"By th'way, lass, 'ow old're yeh?"

"Sixteen," she responded promptly. "I'm a sixth year at Hogwarts. Death Eaters got me on a Hogsmeade weekend-"

From right next to her, Ignavia swore loudly.

"Fuck, Ellie told me they canceled Hogsmeade weekends!"

"What?" Luna asked, turning to look at her curiously. "No, we've had about two so far."

"Holy mother-fucking shit,"she exclaimed, punching the wall, "that lying little brat! She must've told me that so I wouldn't write a note!" Ignoring her now-bleeding knuckles, Ignavia took a deep breath and continued more calmly, "When my older sister and her husband were killed, I took over guardianship for their daughter, my niece, Eleanor, and I know how little adult supervision there is on those Hogsmeade trips!"

"What do you mean?" asked Luna, somewhat intrigued. "There's hundreds of people there!"

"Yes," consented Ignavia, "but exactly how many of them would stop and risk their lives to save someone else instead of running for their own pathetic little lives?"

Luna opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again when she remembered no one had come to her aid, choosing instead to run, then nodded in compliance.

"Exactly," Ignavia concluded, tightly clenching her fist, obviously fighting to restrain herself from taking her anger out on the wall yet again.

Feeling somewhat dazed at the day's events, Luna rubbed her eyes a few times, then turned back to Cin to finish their conversation.

* * *

"Why do you stare at her," Luna whispered to Solus a couple days later, having noticed that it wasn't really a one-time thing.

Solus did not answer immediately, but looked up to meet Luna's eyes. Luna almost gasped at the intensity of the pitch-black gaze, now almost positive she had seen those eyes on someone else, but still not able to figure out who. He did not remove his gaze for what felt like hours, but was in reality only a few seconds before finally tearing away the obsidian pools to gaze once again at Ignavia. He still did not respond.

Giving it up as a lost cause, Luna turned to Cin, looking for entertainment. Sure, perhaps this wasn't the nicest of things to do, but a) he didn't mind if he even noticed at all, and b) this was PRISON. No one really cared what you did in prison (or whatever captivity you were in). She watched as he mumbled his chosen nursery rhyme and walked the perimeter of the cell for the seventy-second time since Luna had arrived, with occasional intervals of spontaneous leaps and skips to make it interesting where the song got boring. Luna wasn't really sure why Cin did all this, but she was sure he had his reasons, and who was she to question them?

A thought occurring to her, Luna turned to Ignavia (apparently the most sane of them all) and asked, "Do any humans come down here?"

Ignavia seemed to consider a moment before replying, "Yes, occasionally someone will come down for some reason or another. It's almost always something to do with moving prisoners, though."

"No torturing for information?" she asked curiously.

Ignavia let out a dark, humorless laugh. "No, we're prisoners of war! Civilians that were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time! We're expendable nobodies, they don't give a flying fuck about _things_ like _us_. We're less important than those pathetic house elves! They're just keeping us alive to hold over people's heads, hoping to gain some kind of perverse advantage. The moment they think they've got the upper hand, they'll probably just stop giving us food altogether, put out a few well-placed cave-ins to cover the evidence, and leave us here to rot away, like a squirrel killed for running across the middle of a street it wasn't given instincts to avoid because the street was man-made!"

The cell went silent for a moment while everyone digested this. Cin did nothing but continue singing, now circling for the seventy-sixth time, though looking decidedly more tense. Clair lifted her head to glare heatedly at everyone, her eyes red and blood-shot, before lowering her head back into her arms, her body wracking with silent sobs. Sam was not so silent, bursting into loud wails that made everyone jump to look at him incredulously. They had all almost thought him incapable of humanoid emotions for all the apathy issues he seemed to have, and it was strange for him to show anything more than a blank face and give a monotone voice. Luna herself clutched her arms together and watched as Ignavia looked surprised at her own words for a moment, then nodded encouragingly to herself and slid down the wall to lean into the arms of Solus who had, until that point, been holding the same position that Luna left him in mere moments ago.

Luna shook her head as the food arrived and she buried her fears and the inner voices exclaiming that Ignavia was right in the back of her hear with all other forms of reality that she saw and didn't like and devoured her share of bread and cheese.

It wasn't until much later, when Luna had just lain down to sleep (yet again) and had completely erased the question from her mind that Solus answered, a carrying whisper that Luna only half-thought she heard as she fell into unconsciousness.

_"Because she is not truly alive, not anymore."_


End file.
